


Venomous Kiss

by throwupsparkles



Category: HIM (Band), Jackass (Movies) RPF, Viva La Bam RPF
Genre: Complicated Relationships, M/M, Nostalgia, Porn with Feelings, Time Travel, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28725216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throwupsparkles/pseuds/throwupsparkles
Summary: The last kiss he had with Ville hadn’t tasted like vodka, he’d tasted like smokey coffee and sweet tobacco. It had been a whole other intoxication that Bam had been willing to learn to love, and he had been teaching his heart to make room now that their Ville was gone for the better.
Relationships: Bam Margera/Ville Valo
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	Venomous Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my HIM friends on Tumblr xnowimnothing, oceanofthesky, smileandasong, and cheribambirose for giving me room and inspiration to fall in love with Ville and Bam. And for giving me all the content to deepen my obsession with all things HIM and Viva La Bam.
> 
> ****
> 
> This is heavily inspired by the [Killing Loneliness](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWaZ9yg_LQ4) video.

Like most things these days, Bam had been at a party when he heard about it. 

Apparently there was a place one could go for the biggest high they’d ever had, which intrigued Bam to say the least. He’s really not sure what kind of high he was even searching for anymore, because he’s felt every kind there is to feel and it never really scratches that itch deep rooted into Bam’s heart.

But that doesn’t stop him from searching.

The thing is that Bam knows that this is likely a hoax. It’s probably some elaborate set up to mug him or something, but there’s enough numbness in him these days that he doesn’t really care if he gets jumped in some alley. If anything, he almost welcomes it. It’d remind him of simpler days where he’d unknowingly walk into a prank that’d leave him covered in bruises to tend to later. 

He pulls out the napkin with the address written on it, the ink smeared from too much beer being spilt and for a moment Bam wonders if the place he’s standing in front of is actually right. Maybe the seven was supposed to be a one. And maybe the bit of Czech he’d managed to pick up all those years ago roaming around Europe was a bit rusty. 

But there’s a pull in the back of his mind that makes him reach out and open the door. When he walks in, there’s a man standing behind a counter looking like the laziest hotel clerk he’s ever seen. He’s flipping through a magazine without even looking up at Bam, but he drawls, “Room six is open,” while sliding a token onto the counter.

Bam frowns, but he’s definitely been in weirder situations than this, so he picks up the token and then continues down the hall. When he reaches the hallway with the rooms, he notices that some of the doors are shut. He hovers by one of the closed doors to try and listen in, but all he hears is silence and he’s pretty okay with a drug knocking him out like that. 

He feels like he hasn’t slept in years.

When he gets to room six, he feels his eyebrow arch at the empty room. He looks around out of habit, then walks in and shuts the door behind him. There’s a chair in the middle of the room and when Bam takes a seat, he notices a coin slot in front of him on the wall. He leans forward and inserts the coin, inhaling sharply when the wall lifts. 

He has to close his eyes at the bright lights, but then he hears the music and he snaps them open when he places the opening chords. 

“What the fuck?” He breathes as Ville and the rest of the guys come into view. 

This has to be a prank, someone knew he was in town and thought it would be funny to fuck with him, but Bam can’t help but reach out-- and he frowns when his fingers brush against glass. “It’s just a screen,” he assures himself, and sits back, tilting his head a bit. 

This is so weird, because it’s not even like this song ever really meant anything to him, at least not that anyone could make a connection with. It’d make more sense for them to have put on one of the videos he shot instead of “Killing Loneliness”. And then the realization hits him and he stands up, the chair scraping against the floor as he rushes to the door. 

When he tries to turn the knob, he finds it locked and he presses his forehead against the wooden door because this is a low blow. Whoever fucked with him to set this up, is a deadman. Because it’s one thing to inflict physical injury as a prank, but it’s an entirely different thing to use Ville against him. 

Because that actually hurts. 

He squeezes his eyes shut when he feels a brush of lips against the back of his neck and this is it. This is when he’ll turn around and see some random sleazy dude who’ll laugh and reveal it’s all just a joke. This is the moment where the stupid shread of hope that this is actually happening will vanish and he’ll be alone yet again. 

“Bam.”

Bam’s eyes snap open and he whirls around to see Ville standing in front of him with that ghost of a smile Bam had always been on the receiving end of. The one that made him think he was annoying Ville all those years ago, a pity smile directed at the pathetic fanboy. 

“What are--”

But the words get caught in Bam’s throat and Ville doesn’t really seem all that keen to chat anyway as he pulls Bam back to the chair and pushes him down on it. Bam keeps following Ville with his eyes, drinks in the Ville that used to love him before everything went to shit. Or maybe, if Bam was having a somewhat rational day, this Ville was the one that loved him because things were shit. Because they were ruining themselves and everyone around them, and there’s a fucking reason why ‘misery loves company’ is a cliche. 

Ville’s hands brace on Bam’s shoulders, his lips at his ear again and Bam’s eyes flutter close, anticipating that beautiful voice filling his mind with love drunk promises that’ll never come true now that Bam knows better. But it’s easy, so fucking easy, to slip into pretending that Ville still gives a damn about him when there’s an inked arm curling around his chest and holding him closer. 

“I miss you,” Bam breathes, then shivers when he feels the tickle of Ville’s curls against his neck before the gentleness of his full lips. Fuck, did Ville have a mouth on him. And his body remembers, reacts like it was just yesterday that Ville had him spread out on that bed somewhere in the middle of Estonia. He can still feel the sheets damp with sweat and alcohol under his back as Ville moved over him. Can smell the flowery artifice of air freshener mixed with Ville’s ever present cigarette. And if he tries hard enough, he can still hear Ville’s laborious breath melting into the sweetest moans that Bam had ever heard. 

“Pay attention, darling,” Ville purrs, “I don’t want you to forget me.”

“Like I could,” Bam mutters, but anything else that had been on his tongue, disappears as Ville slides onto his lap and melds their lips together. 

The last kiss he had with Ville hadn’t tasted like vodka, he’d tasted like smokey coffee and sweet tobacco. It had been a whole other intoxication that Bam had been willing to learn to love, and he had been teaching his heart to make room now that their Ville was gone for the better. 

Because that’s the thing. It’s not like Bam didn’t know that they were poisonous to each other, but it’s an addiction for a reason. No one ever gets addicted to what’s good for them. And Bam isn’t proud enough to deny that he still fantasizes about the man in his lap. The one that tastes like he could burn down his throat and flood any insecurities. 

He runs his fingers through Ville’s hair and grips the curls, loving that they’re at that awkward length that had made Ville feel self-conscious. The one time that Ville had felt like a human next to him, that he had insecurities about his looks just like Bam did. 

He pulls the hair back, causing Ville to gasp and bare his neck as Bam licks up his throat, sucking on his Adam's apple before biting his softened jaw line. He loved this moment in time, when Ville’s face was soft and attainable.

Ville frees himself from Bam’s hold and Bam is about to protest when he feels his belt loosening and Ville’s wicked grin against his lips. 

“Need help, Willa?” Bam teases. 

Ville chuckles darkly and tugs at the waistline of Bam’s jeans. Bam laughs at the jerky movement of Ville trying to tug his pants off, feeling himself sink back to the times they would be cramped and bent in odd angles on HIM’s tour bus. Bam lifts his hips up to help and can’t pass the opportunity to kiss the proud smile off Ville’s lips, curling his hand to cup his cheek and slow them down. Because he doesn’t care if this isn’t real, he just needs to savor this. 

Ville licks into his mouth, his hand coming up to curl around the wrist that holds their matching tattoo. Ville grins and brings his lips to brush against the ink that healed long ago, “You have no idea what it’s like to see you marked as mine.”

“Still yours,” Bam replies, even though the sentiment doesn’t mean much to this Ville. This Ville hasn’t known the hate that his current Ville has towards Bam, hasn’t tasted the sour tang of disappointment. 

“Show me,” Ville breathes, falling to his knees in front of Bam. 

The first pass of Ville’s hot breath against his cock floods him with heat, and he knows this is going to be over embarrassingly quick. And when Ville’s lips brush against the head of his cock, he squeezes his eyes shut because it’s just too much to watch him on his knees in front of him like this, too fucking much to watch his red full lips stretched around him.

“Look at me, Bam,” Ville demands. 

Bam has never been able to refuse him, and when his eyes snap open, he gets an eyeful of Ville swallowing around him. Ville sucks on the head, swirling his tongue around it and holding Bam’s heated gaze with his emerald eyes--wicked but so fucking reassuring at the same time. Bam never had a chance to survive Ville Valo, he’d willingly sold his soul to the Devil and he’d do it all again. Even now, after he knows how they end, he would do it all again just for the moments he had. Moments like these where Ville is looking up at him like he still loves him. 

“Fuck,” Bam breathes, his hand reaching out to cup his cheek because Bam can’t keep his hands off him now. He runs his thumb along Ville’s jaw, feeling it work under his touch before groaning and touching the hallows of Ville’s cheeks from sucking him off. 

He feels the air grow heavier around them as he traces over Ville’s lips stretched over him, feels himself sink in and out of Ville’s mouth, wet with spit and precome. Ville’s eyes darken and he pulls off to take Bam’s hand and press a kiss to the center of his palm, the sentiment so sweet that it nearly makes Bam’s eyes water. And fuck that, he is not the kind of guy that cries during sex. But leave it to Ville to challenge that for him too. 

He nearly shouts out when Ville swallows around him again, taking him deeper this time and he feels himself hit the back of Ville’s throat. His hand shifts from Ville’s cheek to cup the back of his head, careful not to just hold him still and fuck into him the way his instincts are crying out to do. And to be fair, Ville would probably get off on that, but Bam is determined to draw this out as long as possible. 

Which is proving to be challenging as Ville pulls out all the stops, getting extra sloppy the way that Bam likes. His long fingers cup Bam’s balls, rolling them in his palm before sliding a spit soaked digit back in between his cheeks and brushing over his entrance. And just the tease, just the tiniest taste of pleasure from Ville has him going rigid and gripping Ville’s curls before crying out and coming in Ville’s sweet, talented fucking mouth. 

And he’s a bit pissed his eyes fell closed because he would have loved to watch Ville swallow him down, would have loved to watch him lick off any of the drops that spilled on his stomach. But when his eyes do open, he gets the sweet image of Ville pressing soft, gentle kisses along the other tattoo they share. 

Bam’s grip in Ville’s hair loosens, but he tugs a bit to get Ville’s attention. “C’mere,” he breathes. 

Ville crawls back into Bam’s lap, slow and lazy as if he was the one that just had a mindblowing orgasm. Bam frames Ville’s cheeks with his hands and kisses him, licks into his mouth so he can refamiliarize himself with their mixed taste. He’d missed that so much, had forgotten how mad it drove him. 

His hands find themselves at Ville’s belt and then there’s more shifting and clothing falling to the floor before Bam’s got his hand around Ville’s cock. And for all the composure that Ville seems to possess, it flies out the window as soon as Bam strokes him--his deep, lusty voice becoming breathy as he pleads, “More” and “Please” mixed with the moans that have haunted Bam’s dreams all these years later. 

It doesn’t take long for Bam to feel Ville shoot hot, thick ropes over his stomach, marking him yet again. Bam strokes him through it and waits to pull off until Ville whimpers from sensitivity, only to cup his hips and pull him closer. Ville’s head falls forward, and their foreheads press together.

Through Ville’s damp curls, Bam can see his eyes fall close as he breathes deeply to catch his breath. He brings a hand up to stroke through his hair, eliciting a content sigh from Ville’s used lips. 

“How long do we have?” Bam whispers. 

Ville’s eyes flutter open and his small, pleased smile falls just a little. He doesn’t answer, instead he leans forward and presses a bittersweet kiss to Bam’s lips. 

“I love you,” Bam whispers, scared that if he tried to talk now, his voice would crack. 

“I know, sweetheart,” Ville replies, tilting his face up to press a kiss to Bam’s forehead. “Now what are you going to do about that?”

Bam buries his face into Ville’s neck, breathes him in as he notices the song drawing to a close. His arms wrap tighter around Ville’s lithe frame as if he could hold him past the song’s closing. 

“Love you, Bam,” Ville rushes as the final chords are strung, “Always. Do you understand?  _ Always _ .”

And then Bam is alone in the silence. 

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm working on a part two because I have an idea of where I think this story goes. But...I'm shit at keeping promises about continuing fics these days, so don't hold me to anything. 
> 
> Come find me loving HIM in 2021 on Tumblr @fromlusttodust.


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